#repellomuggletum15

[leatvshows]

fanfic moodboard   | #inspiredbyoq day 7 (bonus) | an unusual christmas by @repellomuggletum15

Famous actress Regina Mills is coming into town to film a new movie during the holiday season, and Robin Locksley is annoyed. But soon he realizes she's not the stuck-up celebrity he thought she was, and things start to change between them. Will they be able to hold on to each other despite being from different worlds?

[glindalovesshoes]

Writer Of The Day #8 01/06/17

On day 8 you’re given BEA!

Bea is the president of OQ fanfic. Period. Everyone who thinks differently please unfollow me. Not only are her multi chapters some of the best AUs I have ever read, she has written over 150 oneshots for this fandom. She writes amazing historical AUs and every Christmas we get a full story as a present. How awesome is this? I admire her writing skills and the ideas she comes up with. She has blessed us with so many wonderful stories, she deserves all the love this fandom can give her. Also... she is fan of Willemijn Verkaik who is the best Elphie in the world. If her writing doesn’t make her awesome, this does 10 times more! Send her some love by reviewing her stuff and animating her to write!

Tumblr: @repellomuggletum15

Twitter: https://twitter.com/verkaiking

FF.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/608803/Verkaiking

Ships: OQ, DOQ, RB, she has also written for Miami Medical!

Favorite completed fic: It must be the Queen of fics... Madam President ( When the woman he loves is elected President of the United States, Robin Locksley's life is turned upside down. As they struggle to find a balance between her new job and his new title as Head of the Secret Service, an unseen threat dares to burn down what they've built together. Can they prevail? (Robin POV - Outlaw Queen AU).) And OMG when you’re done with this read the MP Chronicles because that’s more fun, more angst and more smut from the MP verse!

Favorite WIP: Tethered ( They killed him, and it was stupid. So I'm fixing it. Short multi-chapter canon OQ fix-it fic loosely inspired by The Lake House. ) Best OQ fix-it-fic out there.

Favorite Oneshot: LOL yeah, no. No. I’ve said before there are over 150 thingies out there including the MP Chronicles and how am I supposed to pick just one?

Serendipity (For the OQ Advent Calendar) All the Christmas feels!

Destined (Reign Historical AU with Bandit OQ) I’m not crying, you are!

Three is a charm... Date Night (Robin finds out Regina has never been on a date)

This was the hardest pick for me so far... and guys, these are just some of my faves... so please go and read them all!

[ninzied]

(Shimmer) Free [Missing Year OQ]

Against all odds, including an irate Queen with a secret resentment for balls, a certain thief finally gets to have this dance. Sequel to Wallflower. 3k. [ffn | ao3]

Happy birthday (one day late) to my darling friend @repellomuggletum15, who can always be counted on to make me laugh, cry, or melt into goop (curse you and your writing!), and to berate me for my horrible taste in garbage TV shows. Love you, BEA.

And thank you @lillie-grey for the word prompt :)

Her gown was indigo blue, almost black when approached from a certain angle, depthless and dark as the lakes that surrounded her castle at night. The bodice was understated, its neckline borderline modest, her curves feeling soft instead of making their usual spectacle. The skirts fell, sweeping, to just grace the floor, so finely threaded with diamonds that Regina glittered blindingly at every turn, shards of starlight piercing through treetops to touch the water below.

She’d found it buried beneath years’ worth of other delicate, sparkling things, girlish things that no longer belonged to the woman she’d grown to be over time. It was hardly her first choice for a ball; in fact, if she’d had any choice in the matter at all, she would have never been caught dead in such a thing. As it was, she blamed Snow White for barging into her private quarters when she did, forcing Regina’s hand if only to avoid being asked yet again what was taking so long to get ready.

In her impatience to avoid Snow’s badgering, she hadn’t done much else to ready herself, scowling at her mirror only briefly in passing to see how wrong she looked, how young, without her boldly lined eyes and red-painted lips.

She’d even left her hair loose, gathered partially up in a way that made her feel half-undone already, before she stepped into the ballroom and felt her gaze moving against her will to land, most unerringly, on his.

Regina blamed her dress for the thief’s staring, installing herself by the buffet table with her back turned for all the good it would do either of them. She occupied her hands as best as she could with plates of fruit she left untouched, managing a tight little smile or two whenever Snow and Charming made their stubborn attempts to be friendly with her.

She was more than exposed, here in this room full of too many memories (of kings, and parties, and other reasons for feeling unwelcome), trying to breathe through an absurdly well-fitting gown while everyone laughed so easily around her. In retrospect, she should have expected the thief to come to her at her most vulnerable, shamelessly using his son to disarm her further so that he might secure a dance for himself.

Twirling around with the boy had proven simple enough, and Regina let her steps fall innocently out of time with the music – as far as she could tell, anyway – while Roland spun them madly about to the tune of his very own song, as only a child could get away with doing. She even caught herself smiling at one point when Roland tried to dip her (something “Papa taught me,” as he proudly declared), though, as always, it was a short-lived thing.

Clearly not wishing to hog her all night (who knew a thief could have raised such a gentleman, Regina thought with a bracing sigh), Roland marched her right up to his father once the music began to slow down, demanding an even exchange for the plate of snacks Robin held in his hand.

Wishing desperately that Snow weren’t just within earshot, Regina did her best not to glower while the intolerable man badly feigned his surprise, as if this hadn’t been his plan all along. Relinquishing his cheese with a highly apologetic expression, the thief reached for her hand while she stood there, glaring, painfully unable to move away from him quickly enough.

“I don’t dance,” she said, stiff, in a last ditch attempt to deter him, very aware of Snow’s head tilting conspicuously sideways at her. Of course, it would not have occurred to the Princess until now that, no, her stepmother never had been one to dance at the balls Father threw growing up. Perhaps the Queen had seen such activities as beneath her.

Perhaps she’d never been asked.

Perhaps she’d never been in a place to learn how.

It burned her that the truth might come out this way, in front of these people she’d spent half a life tearing down, and she felt herself turning to stone when Charming bent to murmur something into Snow’s ear, the two of them sharing a knowing look in that insufferable way they so liked to do.

But Robin seemed to have willfully misinterpreted Regina’s meaning, sighing in a reluctant manner – as if this had been every bit her ridiculous idea and not his – before saying to her, “I can’t say I’m fond of dancing myself, Your Majesty, but my boy has fairly insisted, so…” He shrugged, as though to add, What can you do? while his eyes crinkled at her, and she did not resist this time when he took her hand into his.

Turning his back to the crowd, he led her to a remote-looking edge of the dance floor, somehow untouched by all the whirling fervor around them, and then he carefully placed himself between her and the Charmings as if to shield Regina from view.

“That being said,” he continued, leaning into her with a tone of conspiracy, “it would be in everyone’s best interest if we did not stray from this corner. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not subject anyone else to the hazards of my dancing.”

He’d set himself up perfectly for her ridicule, but Regina was too taken aback to mock him as he might have expected. She did not miss the ease with which he positioned their bodies together, one palm sliding to rest at the small of her back, the other closing gentle fingers around her own and lifting their arms at purposeful, well-practiced angles.

Unsure what it was she was supposed to be doing with her other hand, she let it hang to the side of her gown until Robin caught on to her helplessness, setting it gingerly onto his shoulder before placing his arm back around her waist.

Regina watched him, unblinking, as he inclined his head to her in a makeshift bow.

“On the count of three,” he told her cheerfully, but then he stepped forward on two, their knees colliding with such force that it startled an oh! out of her.

“I thought you’d agreed not to get in my way?” she broke in with more exasperation than she felt, trying hard not to notice whether Snow was still watching them or not.

“Apologies,” said Robin, his hand already bracing her back with a deliberate sort of anticipation that she was sure she hadn’t imagined. “It’s been some time since I’ve done this properly.” As if to further prove his point, he tread over her hemline then, and she nearly tripped into him with another sound of protest. “Dancing was never a strong suit of mine, I’m afraid, and it appears very little has changed in that regard.”

He looked at her meaningfully, as though waiting for her to agree, but she found she could do no more than stare at him, scrutinizing. Who, exactly, was he trying fool here? Outlawed though he may be, here in this ballroom he was no longer Robin Hood but this Robin of Locksley, bred as a noble from his manners down to the way that he moved, despite his attempts to mask it with clumsiness.

Even now, there was an element of grace to his bumbling, a carefulness to how he only upset her balance just so, and his arms never wavered, holding her steady as he spun them around in small, cautious circles. He did not let her falter, and whenever she nearly misstepped he was there to swallow the motion with another blunder of his own, begging forgiveness for his dreadful inability to keep time with the music.

And for a moment Regina felt impossibly young again, hatefully wary of any audience their dancing might have welcomed, wondering that they couldn’t see where the Queen ended and the miller’s granddaughter began. But on another twirl (a warm flash of blue as Robin lifted his arm, a sea bluer still as she spun into him), she caught sight of Snow and Charming – their attentions now turned toward Little John, who was bowing theatrically to an amused-looking Ruby – and something like relief shoved Regina’s breath out in a sigh.

True to his word, Robin did not let them wander beyond their edge of the ballroom, swaying her gently from side to side while all the color and commotion of the party flew by. Even the music sounded distant from here, as though a curtain had dropped between them and the rest of the world, and her shoulders gradually lost some of their rigidness, her eyes drifting more and more his way before glancing quickly off to one side.

He was a good several inches taller than she was used to him being – the heels Snow had picked out for her were fairly tame by Regina’s standards – and his lips fell dangerously into focus, his eyes blue and bright and strikingly open when she made the mistake of looking up at him again.

She cleared her throat, angling away until her gaze settled much more comfortably on a spot near his shoulder. He was dressed in his usual huntsman’s attire, greens and browns in every shade of the forest, and she could swear she smelled the stables on him, that heady richness of soft, worn leather, the faint scent of hay and the freedom of being outdoors.

He was close enough now for her to feel the heat of him on her skin, stray wisps of hair stirring by her temple each time that he exhaled. He was close – too close, she told herself firmly – but it was an increasingly difficult thing to care much about, and more than once she caught herself leaning forward, lashes heavy, to breathe it all in another time.

Robin must have sensed her softening, and he began to coax her into a more discernible rhythm, a slow but steady one-two-three, one-two-three that seemed manageable enough as long as he didn’t try anything more ambitious than that with her. It felt almost natural, somehow, taking these steps with this man she only knew how to despise on most days, when all he’d ever wanted was for her to dance with him.

(Perhaps he’d always been the one meant to ask her.)

(And perhaps someday she might learn to admit it.)

“I think we’re making a decent go of it so far, don’t you?” Robin remarked, and before Regina could half-register what he was doing, he had bent her backward in a daring little dip. After one heart-lurching pause, he pulled her up to land flush with his body, her palm pushing into his chest on instinct to prevent the rest of her from falling any further into him. Her breath left her again momentarily, and everything swam, suddenly dizzying, when he reached to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder.

“I’d been wanting to try that,” he murmured, hand lingering by her cheek before dropping away.

“Your son was very enthusiastic about it himself.” Her voice was impressively even, considering how winded she still felt.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose.”

She glanced sharply upward to find him smiling at her, nothing but kindness in his gaze as he secured his arm completely around her waist this time, drawing her somehow even closer, his smile growing all the while.

“What?” she scowled, which only seemed to encourage him more.

Robin shrugged a shoulder, his smile tipping sideways now into something distinctly troublesome, and she felt herself bracing for some kind of impact. “I thought you’d be…” He bit into his bottom lip, considering her with those mischievous eyes before settling at last on a teasing, “…pricklier.”

Regina shot him a withering look. “And I thought you’d be dirtier.”

She felt a chuckle resonating throughout his chest.

“I couldn’t very well stand to be shown up by my own son, now could I?” Robin wanted to know, pulling slightly back to regard her in a rather somber manner. “Not when there’s a Queen’s heart to be won.”

She never quite knew how to handle him whenever he was like this with her, and she was grateful for the excuse to look away when the boy in question chose that moment to whoosh past them, laughing delightedly as a half-crouched Leroy grrred and arghed in close pursuit behind him.

“Papa, keep Her Majesty safe!” shouted Roland, brandishing a sliced baguette the way one might a sword. “I’ll lead the monster away!” The cravat Regina had fashioned for him earlier was now coming undone, one end poking out of the gold vest she’d borrowed from her father’s collection and magically shrunk to fit Roland’s frame. As Leroy advanced on him with another dramatic growl, the boy reached to tug the silk fabric from around his neck, swinging it up and about as though he intended to lasso Leroy with it.

The tables had clearly turned with this new development, and Leroy, comically wild-eyed, let out a good-natured yell before running off in the other direction, Roland charging after him this time.

“I got the monster! I got it, I got it!” he crowed, triumphant, careening by with his bread and cravat, and Regina was mildly distressed to see that somewhere in the midst of his adventuring the boy had also gotten creative with the spinach puffs, their cheesy green insides smeared all over the front of his tunic and vest like some kind of camouflage.

“Curious,” said Robin into her ear, “who might have trusted a four-year-old not to keep his dinner off those very expensive-looking clothes.”

Regina was too distracted to reply to him at first, her more motherly impulses rearing up and threatening to do a little chasing herself with a washrag in hand, until she noticed how carefully Robin was looking at her.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” he asked, innocent.

She thinned her lips together, denying immediately, “Not in the slightest, no.”

“Well,” he mused, after a beat, “it would seem Roland’s mysterious benefactor is determined that I should be the one to lose in this battle for your affections.”

“To be fair, he did save me from that monster,” Regina pointed out, craning around to monitor his progress. Roland had now doubled back to the buffet table to arm himself, gleefully pelting Leroy with various weapons in the form of blueberries and pomegranate seeds. The grapefruit he selected next was so large he had to lob it into the air with both hands, and when it dropped with a dull thud only halfway to his target, Leroy helpfully bent to nudge it back in Roland’s direction before throwing his arms out to shield himself again.

(Regina thought of other timely rescues made on her behalf – of buried hearts and flying monkeys, and an arrow hitting its mark – and she wondered if Roland hadn’t picked that up from his father, too.)

“Ah,” said Robin, sounding warm as they watched his son sneak a grape before grabbing up handfuls to renew his attack on Leroy. “In that case, I have some grave competition indeed.”

They’d stopped their slow spinning in favor of witnessing the drama unfold, and Regina became acutely aware of how intimately they’d positioned themselves, fingers entwined instead of touching politely together, her other hand curled around the edge of his vest. She could feel each breath he took with every inch of her body, it seemed, pressed into his as though they’d always been meant to fit this way, and it was absurd how much she wanted to look up at him in that moment.

“What do you think?” Robin continued, everything twinkling, his voice full of light. “Would I be half as appealing a dance partner as my son if I knew how to dress the part as well?”

“I’m sure you couldn’t handle it.”

And truthfully, she couldn’t picture Robin that way, in the same apparel that men like Charming considered to be second nature to them, all that brocade and those stiff, gilded lines that reminded Regina too well of her old ballroom days.

Robin might have been of noble birth, but he didn’t belong to this place any more than she did, try though she should have to keep refusing this (his warmth, his heart, his everything so gentle with her), and the knowledge of it made her long to be reckless all of a sudden.

“I think you’re probably right about that,” he sighed, tickling the hair by her forehead again, and she heard the sharpness in her breath when he shifted over her, stubble just grazing her skin.

“Though I suppose Roland must have gotten his charms from somewhere,” Regina allowed, and Robin’s chest rumbled with laughter again, his palm spreading heat along her spine as he tightened his hold, leaving her slightly lightheaded for how weightless he’d made her.

She could practically taste the forest on him this close, and it would be wrong, she thought, to have it – have him – any other way than like this, loose-collared with the lines of his throat bared and unshaven, all of him smelling like sunlight and pine.

“So you do know how to smile,” Robin observed, dimples creasing his features when she stared up at him, caught, and a flush settled over her cheeks that she had not felt in a long, long time.

“I wouldn’t get used to it,” she told him, meant as a warning, though she was having trouble recalling her usual ire with him.

“No, of course not,” he agreed, so easily – so tenderly – it was all she could do not to smile in bafflement again.

They were standing entirely still by now, the music reaching some final crescendo as it probably had several times over already. Regina was wondering just how many dances he’d managed to steal from her when Robin dipped his head downward, biting a lip before his expression turned rueful, almost shy, of all things. “Would you care for another, milady?”

“Maybe one more,” she heard herself say, and Robin, smiling, laced their fingers more firmly together, tugging her back to sway into him in their own private corner of sea and forest and starlight.

[leatvshows]

fanfic moodboard   | #inspiredbyoq day 2 | you jump, i jump by @repellomuggletum15

For Regina, a wealthy socialite, the Titanic is a prison, one that will take her to a life she does not want, but when she meets a handsome stranger from a lower class, everything changes. He teaches her about the world, about herself, and love blooms, transforming the ship into a place where she is finally happy... then tragedy strikes.

[theworldaccordingtodee]

Guy, Bea aka @repellomuggletum15 wrote a Christmas fic you should all check out! In case you're unfamiliar with her work she wrote "Madam President" and "You Jump I Jump"-this wonderful little Titanic AU. But really, if you're looking for a good Christmas AU, you should definitely check this fic out.

[secretsantaandsmores]

repellomuggletum15′s wishlist

THINGS I’D LIKE: ART!! I’d love cute OQ Christmas art, or OQ art for any of my fics, or OQ fanvids for any of my fics… you get the idea lol. I also love fanfic though so if you’re a writer I’d love a nice, long fluffy OQ one-shot or a few OQ drabbles, whatever you’re most comfortable with.

WHAT I CAN DO: Write! Fluff fic, angst fic, smut fic, all fic =P

WHAT I CAN’T DO: Art. I’m horrible at it, ask anyone.

ANYTHING YOU DON’T WANT? Hmmm not really, although if you’re writing me fic I really DON’T want angst, I’d rather it be fluff more than anything else.

SEND ANON MESSAGES TO ME? Sure!

[freifraufischer]

repellomuggletum15 replied to your post:No I'm not calling a minority community as a whole...

*Barges in* Dear anon, as someone who teaches, let me just say: YOU’RE means YOU. ARE., YOUR means YOUR… stop using them incorrectly, it’s giving me a migraine.

Good for you.  *laugh* There are so many typos in my posts I’d never feel comfortable lecturing someone on the internet about them.

[somewhereapart]

Prompt (because you put ideas in my head lol): Robin, Regina, and the straining button of everlasting promise =P

There are things being discussed, very important things. Dark Ones and new arrivals from Camelot, and arranging for the lodging and supplying of the denizens of a strange (but not so strange) kingdom now within the limited borders of this magical little town.

He enjoys the challenge of leadership, of getting things done, of taking charge. He should be in his element but there’s something drawing his attention today, something he cannot resist the pull of.

Regina. And that top. And those buttons.

He’d thought he had a weakness for her corsets, for the way they’d hoisted her breasts up and made them impossible to ignore, but that’s nothing compared to the hint of them, the suggestion of them. The way this particular top gaps between every button when she turns just so, reveals hints of golden skin and black lace, and it shouldn’t affect him so, not when he knows what lies beneath. Intimately and well. Not when he’d seen her hook that black lace bra just this morning, had watched her fasten each button one by one, quick and efficient.

But he is affected, and terribly so. David’s voice a low, droning presence as Robin tries very hard (and fails quite completely) not to stare at those straining buttons.

Hardest workers in the whole bloody Kingdom today, those buttons, and damn them for it.

It makes him want things, want her, even more than he usually does. Makes him wonder for a brief, delirious second if they could get away with sneaking off to duck behind a thick tree trunk beyond the perimeter of this clearing so he could give those little bits of plastic a much needed break.

“…you think, Robin?”

He snaps to attention at the sound of his name, the word blurting from his lips before he can help it: “Buttons.” He feels the back of his neck flush with mortification as Regina arcs one brow, knowingly. David, thankfully, just looks confused. “I mean, um. Bottles. Of water. We can get pallets of them, then we won’t have to worry ourselves with the distance to the stream.”

How he managed to pull that out of his arse, he has no idea, but it seems to satisfy the prince, and the conversation continues.

He is not unaware of the way Regina shifts her posture slightly, slouching just a hair.

Those buttons breathe a sigh of relief.